


The Dark Horse Contender

by DaisyNinjaGirl



Series: St Basil, the Fool for Christ [5]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: Boy Detectives, Cracky Crackiness, Dancing!, F/M, Favour Economy, Fluff, Fun with Food!, Gen, Rare Pairing, The Author Does Not Apologise (Much), Unplanned Pregnancy, Unplanned Seduction, Who Doesn't Want To Hug Captain America
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 08:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyNinjaGirl/pseuds/DaisyNinjaGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the spring, when the boss’ assistant is knocked up, a young man’s fancy turns to thoughts of: <i>who the heck is the father?</i></p><p>Chapter One: The Dark Horse Contender<br/>Chapter Two: Even Pointy Headed People Need Love<br/>Chapter Three: The Paperwork Wars<br/>Chapter Four: Sometimes There Is Tango<br/>Chapter Five: Flashback<br/>Chapter Six: Captain America Doesn't Smile</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dark Horse Contender

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thimblerig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thimblerig/gifts).



> This story tidies up a loose end from _St Basil, Fool for Christ_ in the same series, but should make sense if you haven't read it first.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony raised his face to the air, as if detecting a far off scent. “The game is afoot!”

**The Dark Horse Contender**

The problem with working for S.H.I.E.L.D. was that there weren’t a _great_ many hours for socialising with people you didn’t already know from work.

The problem with being seconded to the Avengers Initiative was that the team was irreducibly blokey. 

It meant that when your _traitorous!_ boss got hold of your medical records and casually mentioned at the Monday morning briefing that: “Oh, and Agent Lewis is temporarily off active duty due to her pregnancy” the stunned silence included every male in the room covertly checking each other out for signs of a guilty conscience.

At last, Captain Steven Rogers spoke: “Congratulations, Darcy!” he said brightly.  “Er… who else should we be congratulating?”

Darcy looked demurely at the table.  “I’m afraid that information is classified, Captain.  I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

***

As they left the briefing room, Tony Stark was chortling.  “Oh, this is great!  This is fantastic.  Fantabulastic!”

Steve looked at him uncertainly.  “You don’t mean…?  But you and Pepper?  Uh, I mean – congratulations!”

“What?  Huh?  _No!_   I found out by accident two weeks ago.  You _do not_ want to know what she threatened me with if I spilled the beans.  And the curiousity…”  Tony grabbed Captain America’s t‑shirt with both hands and shook him.  “It _burns_ , man.  It _burns_.”

“Oh, right,” Steve’s face cleared.  “But who is the… lucky fellow?”

“Heck if I know!  You?”

Steve shook his head.

“What’s the matter, Capsicle?  You planning a shotgun wedding?”

He drew himself up with dignity.  “No.  I know people do things differently now.  But Darcy is our team member, and also our friend.  She shouldn’t be left… unsupported.”

“And damn her eyes for being so close mouthed.”

“This fellow should know that she’s not without allies and friends.”

“People have needs…  Gossipy needs.”

“He should know that he has to do his duty by Miss Lewis, however she wants to define that duty.”

Tony raised his face to the air, as if detecting a far off scent.  “The game is afoot!”

***

“So, Bruce,” Tony said airily, swanning into the lab.  “You’re fond of Darcy.”

Bruce looked up from his monitor.  “I am.”

“ _Very_ fond would you say?  Perhaps with a bit of a thing going on?”

Bruce carefully took off his glasses and cleaned them with his handkerchief.

“I could say very fond.  So fond that I would be upset if I thought someone were trifling with her feelings.”

“Upset, you say?”

“ _Very_ upset.”

“I think we’re done here.”  Tony hustled Steve out of the room.

***

Barton was in the firing range, training.

“What’s up, Steve?  Tony?” he grunted, selecting another arrow.

“Hawkeye!  So… you’re not exactly the kind of guy who would fire blanks, _are_ you?”

Barton raised his aim slightly.  The arrow ricocheted off a light fitting and rammed home, inches between Tony and Steve’s faces.

“Maybe not!”

***

They walked down the corridor, Tony deep in thought.  He raised a hand: “Thor is a total stud muffin.  (What?!  I have _eyes_!)  Maybe he and Jane and Darcy have a…”

Steve opened the door to Jane’s lab, then backed out slowly and closed the door carefully.  He shook his head.

***

“Agent Coulson!”  Tony slapped his hand jovially on the agent’s desk.  “You and your assistant!  All those long, tiring, paperworking hours.  An office with a door that locks.  Perhaps a spot of hero worship…?”

Coulson raised his eyebrows.  “Mr Stark, S.H.I.E.L.D. fraternisation regulations have very clear rulings regarding reporting lines.  I’ve provided a copy for your edification.  And one for you, too, Captain Rogers.”

Just then, Steve’s and Tony’s cell phones beeped together.  Steve glanced at his message and flushed.  “I think we’re done.  Sorry for taking up your time, Agent.”

As they walked away, Tony at last looked a little sheepish.  “But I still want to know.  Who is this dark horse contender?  Who could it be?  _Who?_ ”

***

Darcy Lewis was having a horrible day.  Super secret spy organisation with need-to-know security?  Hah!  The pack of them gossiped like old women.

By eleven, when she got back from the Avengers’ team meeting, the female agents she shared an office with had gotten together a gift basket for her.

By noon, there was a paternity sweepstake pinned up in the break room.  She tore it down and stuffed it in the shredder.  Unfortunately she glanced at some of the names first.  “Loki?  Magneto?  _Eeeeeeuw._   You guys are _gross_.”

By one, a hand written, hand delivered congratulations card had arrived from Director Fury.  She was never going to live that down.

At two, Natasha gave her a heads up that the Boy Detectives were on the trail.  She texted the pair of them: _What, are you five?  My vengeance will be _way_ more than 12% of terrible._

At three, the family grapevine finally caught up and she had a long phone call with her mother.

At four, she stormed into her boss’ office.

“You low down son of a… thing.  You _outed_ me!”

Coulson settled back in his chair.  “Agent Lewis, the details of your personal life are your own responsibility; workplace health and safety is mine.”

“You…  This is revenge, isn’t it?  You’re miffed that I didn’t tell you first!”

“Lewis, I do not get… ‘miffed’.”

She stared at him for a long moment.  “Gah!”

By five, she was slumped at her desk sorting the gifts – offerings – left there into piles of cool-and-keepable and weird-and-disposable.  An Avengers onesie, Lego, an Ironman ‘hug-me’ doll (hah!), a children's book titled _Go The Fuck To Sleep_ … an infant sized set of knuckle dusters?

At five thirty, Agent Sitwell blew in, fresh from the month long mission he’d been working overseas.  He, too, brought offerings – two steaming takeout cups.  “So…” he hitched one hip on to her desk, and put one of the cups within easy reach.  “There’s this rumour going around the office?”

Darcy reached for the cup, peeled off the lid and sniffed it dubiously.  Not-coffee.  In fact, a chai latte, rich with cinnamon and ginger that settled her stomach for the first time that day.  “Yeah.  Um.  Jasper, I think we need to talk…”


	2. Even Pointy Headed People Need Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ _Agent Sitwell._ Are you managing me?”

**Even Pointy Headed People Need Love**

Three months:

“No, Tony fucking Stark, I’m not going to move in with you guys, no matter how much you pimp out the nursery.  You take people _over._ ”

“No, but, you haven’t seen how the bassinet converts into an armoured tank.  You didn’t tell me whether it was a boy or girl yet, so I set up the lasers so you can change the colour with a remote control.”  He was bouncing at her, a needy puppy trolling for approval.

She eyed the colour scheme with distaste – there were some things about Stark’s childhood that woman was not meant to know.  “It’s very… I can see you put a lot of thought into this, but no thank you.  I like my own apartment.”

“Well, it’s better than moving in with _Sitwell_ ,” he said.  “He’s only got a two bedroomed place in Queens.  And he has a pointy head!”

“Even pointy headed people need love,” she said stoutly.  “And I like my own apartment.”  Her phone beeped.  “Gotta go.”

***

She hustled down the stairs to Dr Banner’s lab.  “You needed me for something?” she asked, out of breath.

“Absolutely.”  Bruce lifted some equipment off the table.  “I have a blood pressure cuff and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“You know I’ve got an OBGYN of my own, right?”

He made a pffing noise between his lips.  She sighed, kicked her shoes off, sat on the cot and let him tighten the sleeve around her arm.

“So, you and Sitwell.  You worked out what you guys are, yet?”

“Right now, we’re not anything.  We are… people who do lunch!” she said grandly. 

He nodded, his eyes intent on the sphygmomanometer.  “Well, if you ever need… assistance in changing your official status, I’m totally there for you, Darcy.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Nothing says I care like threats of grievous bodily harm, huh?”

He grinned.  “I know a guy.”

***

Doing lunch:

“So,” Sitwell said, his eyes behind his spectacles bright.  “You said that you were getting swollen ankles, so I got you some pressure stockings.  Also, I know you’ll be thinking about hospitals and nannies and paediatricians, so I got together some options for your consideration.  They’ve all got different strengths, naturally, but they’re something to start the conversation with-”

“Sitwell…” 

He handed her a warm gingery drink.  Also a ringbinder co-opted from the office stationary supplies.  “About your mother… she was sounding a bit wistful when you introduced me to her on the phone.  I was wondering how you’d feel about having her up here for a few days, give her a bit of bonding time over the whole pregnancy thing.”

“Sitwell!  My mother and I-”

“There are some options for things to do in the folder as well.  My recommendation is the river cruise – lots of programmed activities, and the ride is supposed to be very easy, very smooth.”  He blinked, limpidly.  “You probably wouldn’t get morning sickness, but you’d have a good excuse if you want a bit of private time…”

“ _Agent Sitwell_.  Are you managing me?”

“I’m facilitating you, Agent Lewis.”  She narrowed her eyes at him. He gazed happily back, in the corner of his eyes the merest spark of wicked humour.

She reached for the folder and paged through.  It was neatly arranged into sections, as only a paperwork junkie trained by the terrifyingly efficient agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. or the superior sort of PA could manage.  The hospitals and birthing centres were neatly colour coded by location, specialty and review; the personnel section included resumes and security checks – she peeked at the crosscheck initials, ‘PJC’, more misuse of office supplies, there…  There was an empty section for her medical records, and an executive summary which neatly laid out Project: Darcy Got Knocked Up like the best kind of mission plan.  There was also one thing missing.

She tapped her fingers against the table.  “You’re not trying to move me out of my apartment…”

He spread his hands.  “I wouldn’t want to presume.”

“Hmmph.”  She reached for the mug of warm milky goodness.  “Alright.  But you better come on this river cruise.  Mom and I are going to need a buffer state.”


	3. The Paperwork Wars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He threw his arms wide in protest. “What _possible_ thing could she be doing for Clinton Barton to be worth filling out an X22-AR – B, 19, uh, 3 form? It’s not sex. I’ve had _great_ sex –” He looked over his shoulder to give Thor and Bruce an A-OK sign “- and it was never worth that.”

**The Paperwork Wars**

Five months:

Darcy was finding as her pregnancy continued that it shifted her centre of mass.  It made her more stable, _grounded_.  As she strode through the corridors of Stark Tower, Avengers, agents, and assorted flunkies scurried before her like foaming vortices of water before a flagship.  She marched into the meeting room to greet her lawful prey.

“Oh good,” she said, “you’re all here.”  She plugged her laptop in and flicked on the data projector with a practiced swing of the remote.  “Friends – we’re on a _journey_.  We’ve had some ups and downs, we’ve _learned_ things along the way, there have been _important_ milestones that we never thought we’d make, and now we look back and laugh at how easy they are now.  Still… _friends_ , it’s time to talk about the paperwork again.” 

She flicked on the first slide, and an untidy spidery scrawl.  “Dr Banner, as always, you have excellent understanding of what the X22 series of forms is trying to achieve – I commend you.  But your handwriting is starting to slip again…”

Bruce carefully took off his glasses and cleaned them with his handkerchief.  Then he chewed his thumb and looked speculatively at his team mates.  She switched to the next slide: “Thor and Captain Rogers, I can see how diligently you’ve been working on your mission reports, _thank you_ , from everyone in the typing pool.  Unfortunately, R&D have made some changes to this form, I’d like to schedule some one on one time to work through the variations with you – maybe half an hour each?”

They nodded seriously.  The spoiled child in the room piped up: “Teacher’s pets!”

“Which brings me to my old nemesis, Tony Stark.”  She grinned with white shiny teeth.  “And our happy happy memories of what happened the _last_ couple of times correct behaviour around office supplies became a topic of merit.”

Tony shifted uncomfortably.  “You never make _Clint_ and _Natasha_ come to these meetings,” he said.

“I never need to – Clint always hands in his paperwork perfectly, and Natasha’s made other arrangements.”

He threw his arms wide in protest.  “What _possible_ thing could she be doing for Clinton Barton to be worth filling out an X22-AR – B, 19, uh, 3 form?  It’s not sex.  I’ve had _great_ sex –” He looked over his shoulder to give Thor and Bruce an A-OK sign “- and it was never worth that.”

“Trust me on this one, Tony Stark, braver souls than you have gone there and fled whimpering to their doom.”

“You were much more fun before you were somebody’s _Mom_.”

She rose from her chair, her belly sticking out proud before her.  “ _Fear me._ ”

He ran.

***

In the hallway, she passed Natasha.  As they reached the security camera blackspot, the agent casually crossed two fingers and quirked an eyebrow.  “I have the new override codes,” Darcy said, undervoiced.  The spy nodded, and passed on by.

***

Midnight, and the hallways of Stark Tower were quiet and dark.  Darcy yawned, got up from her workstation and ‘casually’ ambled through the deserted tower in the direction of the vending machines, ‘accidentally’ sidestepped down the wrong corridor.  Over her earpiece, Agent Barton’s voice spoke softly in her ear, quiet, intent – his ops voice.  “ _Package acquired.  Is the hot zone secure?_ ”

She stepped smoothly into the kitchen and held up a remote, toggled the button, waited for the corresponding beep.  “ _Acknowledged_ ,” she replied.  She nodded at Natasha slipping in another door.  “ _Specialist in place - Barton, you are cleared to approach._ ”

Two _happy_ hours later, Darcy pushed her plate back and sighed.  Tonight had been green curry night – plump moist chicken, the heat of galangal and kaffir lime, the soft sweetness of coconut milk, chased with crisp tender roti bread.  There were certain… _advantages_ to being friends with a pair of master assassins, you got an in on their favour economy.  Natasha finished her own meal and carefully folded her apron into her backpack.  Barton stuffed the leftovers into his own bag and began washing dishes.  She got up to dry plates for him - “Same time next week?” she asked Natasha.

The highly trained assassin nodded.  “Next week.  Next week is pavlova night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is directly inspired by Thimblerig's excellent [_Paperwork Ninja_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/451776). (Why borrow when you can steal outright? Er. It's a tribute!)


	4. Sometimes There Is Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can tango,” Steve Rogers shrugged nonchalantly. “I took dance classes to work on my balance.” Then he hesitated as well and fidgeted with his coffee cup. “I only know how to lead, though.”

**Sometimes There Is Tango**

Eight and a half months:

“Right,” Darcy said brightly, “Dr Banner.  We’re all good with the briefing for your next mission, except for a skill check.”  She pulled out her clipboard and poised her pen ready to tick off an item.  “Do you tango?”

The mild mannered doctor hesitated.  He fidgeted with his glasses.  “It’s never come up,” he said at last.

“Huh,” she said.  “Well, I could teach you, but…” she looked down at her belly.  Somehow, a clinch didn’t seem like a good idea just then.

“I can tango,” Steve Rogers shrugged nonchalantly.  “I took dance classes to work on my balance.”  Then he hesitated as well and fidgeted with his coffee cup.  “I only know how to lead, though.”

“Nat?” Darcy looked across the kitchen at the spy rooting through the fridge.  “Could you and Steve do a demonstration maybe?”

“I don’t tango,” she said, her voice muffled.  “Ask Clint.”

“Ask me what?” Barton said behind her, and Darcy jumped a foot in the air.

“Oh hi, Clint,” she said, “I didn’t hear you come in.  Can you help me out with something?  JARVIS?  Would you play some music?”

Barton’s eyebrows rose mightily when Captain Rogers stepped into the middle of the floor and opened his arms into a dance hold, but he moved obediently into the correct position.  “Alright,” Darcy said conversationally to Bruce.  “Do you see how they’re standing?  Like a lot more offset than you would for a waltz?  And their arms are quite high?  Right.  The basic step pattern you’re after is slow-slow- _quick-quick_ -slow, and it’s like a walking step.  Ooh, _very_ good, gentlemen,” she said watching Barton and Rogers glide along the floor.

Dr Banner blinked owlishly at the complete concentration the two men were showing.  “Slow slow quick quick slow,” he said.  “Got it.”

“So yeah,” Darcy went on, “and I kinda want you to keep thinking _promenade_.  And big steps, and put your feet down carefully.  Maybe a bit of strutting.  Unleash your inner romantic.”

“Uh…”

“Seriously.  Tango is a really sultry, sexy dance.  You have to commit.”  She watched the two dancers speculatively.  If there was one thing to be said for highly trained sparring partners, they had _focus_.  Captain Rogers glanced at Barton with a raised eyebrow.  Hawkeye shrugged.  As the song wound to its end, they slid into a slow elegant dip, the arch of their arms and the elegant curves of their spines screaming out strength and trust and grace.  “ _Gosh_ ,” she said.  The two men returned to a resting position and nodded at each other.  “So that’s how you tango,” Darcy said, just a little bit flushed.

“So why did you want me to tango for you, Darce?” Barton asked, stealing her doughnut and stuffing it in his mouth.

“Oh, someone needed to teach Bruce, and Natasha can’t tango.”

“Natasha can tango,” he said, his brows slightly furrowed.

“I said ‘don’t’, not ‘can’t’.”  The assassin shrugged elegantly.  “This was funnier.”

“Point,” he said.

Tony rushed into the break room, a panicked look on his face.  “There was tango?  I heard there was tango!  I can tango.”

“The window for tango has passed,” Bruce said gravely.

“But…”

“No tango for you, sweetheart.”  At the hurt look on Stark’s face, Darcy couldn’t help giggling and ended up curled on herself on the couch laughing so hard it made her stomach hurt.  And hurt some more.  “Oh!  Ow.  _Ow._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the info on how to tango from this site: http://www.ballroomdancers.com/dances/dance_overview.asp?Dance=ATA


	5. Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s a form,” he said.
> 
> She inhaled slowly, deeply. “There’s always a form.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bonus scene for Thimblerig who has been ill all week, and Hellseries who likes dimples.

**Flashback**

T – 3 days:

“Senior Agent Sitwell?”  Darcy walked into the agent’s office.  “You wanted to see me?”

Sitwell looked up from the file he was reading and smiled politely.  “Yes, please – I have a new asset in my caseload; I believe you’ve met and I was wondering if you would you give me your opinion?”

Darcy looked at the name on the front page consideringly.  “Prickly.  Smart.  Hates Stark.”

“Thank you.  Oh, would you pull these files for me from offline storage?”  He handed her a slip of paper with some code numbers written on it in big loopy handwriting.

Sitwell, it turned out, had an antiquated taste in record reading – the papers he wanted were from ten, twenty years ago and they took some digging to pull out.  When she got back to his office, he was still trawling through the file, making notes on a legal pad in more loopy handwriting.  She put the box down and sighed – they’d reached the fey midnight hour of the night shift when good girls were seeking their beds, and bad girls were ruling the dance floor.  The crazy hours of S.H.I.E.L.D. were still playing havoc with her social life, alas, alas.  Sitwell looked up enquiringly.

“Can I ask you a question?  How did you join Shield, anyway?  FBI, maybe?  You don’t look like the army type.”

The senior agent smiled slightly and shook his head.  There was a faint suggestion of dimples on his face, and her eyes narrowed.  It was generally Not Done at S.H.I.E.L.D. for seniors and juniors to mix it up romantically, but on the other hand, she’d heard rumours…  And he had interesting olivey skin.  And smelled nice.  Ack.  And she had hormones.  Thrice damned hormones. They messed with the brain.  Perhaps she could hit on Stark, she thought.  _Stark_ would be easy.

“Career bureaucrat?  You’ve got an eye for paperwork…” she started to ramble.  “Foreign Office, maybe?”

“Agent Lewis, as you know, Shield recruits from all walks of life.”

“Ooh, were you kidnapped into protective custody, too?  Was it exciting?”

The agent laughed and shook his head again.  She stalked out and headed for the coffee station.  _Damn it_.  She hated the night shift, there was too much quiet around.  Day shift, at least there were other female agents floating by the water cooler to gossip with about the goings on of the supervillains they monitored – seriously, the convoluted love affair rumoured between Namor the Sub-Mariner and Susan Storm of the Fantastic Four was much more riveting than any of the soaps on offer at the moment…  She went back to her desk and tried pulling up Sitwell’s file, but her security clearance was too low.  Darn.  Now that she’d started wondering, the curiousity was going to kill her.

She grabbed a second cup of coffee and poked her head back in his office.  “Professional golfer?  Do you have a mean swing?”

Sitwell adjusted his glasses, the faintest of twinkles in his eyes.  “I’ve never played golf.”

She handed him the coffee.  “School teacher?”  She breathed in with a slight hiss.  “Did you teach high school English?  I could see you teaching high school?”

He sipped the coffee and shook his head some more.  “No.  Getting closer, though.  Thank you for the coffee, Agent Lewis.”

She drummed her fingers on the table.  “ _Please_ tell me?”

The senior agent rubbed his mouth for a moment.  “I wanted to be a priest.  It didn’t quite work out that way.”

“ _Seriously?”_

“Seriously, Agent Lewis.”

Darcy’s mouth quirked slightly.  “When I was in high school, my cousin Marcia was dating a seminary student.  I think she was trying to seduce him back into a ‘worldly life’.  Keeping score, that kind of thing.  Was that ever a problem for you?”

“Not as I recall, Agent Lewis,” Sitwell said, scribbling more file numbers on his pad.  He ripped the page off and handed it to her.  “Personally, I quite enjoyed being seduced back into a worldly life.  Would you mind bringing the next batch of files?”

Darcy’s mouth opened.  Then closed again.  “Sure.”

In the records room, she considered her blighted sex life.  Hmm.  She took her suit jacket off – to protect the woollen fabric from dust – pulled the files she needed from the top shelf, and, marching back into Sitwell’s office, plunked the folders on his desk and leaned forward onto it.  Her shirt was snowy white, her cleavage… was doing cleavagy things, her lipstick was excellent as ever.  “Senior Agent Sitwell?”  He looked up, with only the merest hesitation before meeting her eyes.  “I was wondering if you could clear up one of the finer points of office procedure for me?”

“Of course, Agent Lewis,” he said.  There were _definite_ dimples there.

“If I were _hypothetically_ to invite you out for breakfast at the end of this shift, would I have to transfer to a different office?  Move to the Siberia Station?  Sign a waiver in blood?”

Sitwell carefully closed the file he was reading and clasped his hands over it.  Not just dimples now, but a flash of glasses, and the merest smidgeon of twinkling eyes.  “There’s a form.”

She inhaled slowly, deeply.  “There’s always a form.”


	6. Captain America Doesn't Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No, but you see – good old Cap does that halfway smirky thing, or maybe a big cheesy Buy War Bonds grin. He doesn’t _smile_. Steve… you’re _smiling_. I didn’t even realise you had _teeth_.”

**Captain America Doesn’t Smile**

D Day:

There are many things that can be said about S.H.I.E.L.D as an organisation – secretive, paramilitary, money sink; the weeping despair of appropriation committees throughout the world.  And these are all true.  What’s also true?  It is terrifyingly efficient.  So much so that, fifteen minutes after Darcy first said “Ow”, _even with_ the combined attentions of a panicking playboy philanthropist billionaire and his three hyperactive robots, Darcy was ensconced in a delivery suite with a patient gown, an intravenous drip with… _interesting_ drugs in it, and a scrubbed up birthing partner.  Unfortunately for everybody else, this left them with a panicking playboy billionaire to somehow entertain.

“What are we doing here?  We should be boiling water.  Do they still boil water?”  Stark pinged around the waiting room.  “No, no, of course not, they use autoclaves now.”  He speed dialled his home computer – “JARVIS?  Have the new Stark 3000 autoclave airlifted to this hospital.  Can it get here in time?  Who cares about airspace restrictions.  _This is taking too long._   We should get Lewis a better doctor… ”

Natasha glared at her partner, with the icy impenetrable stare usually reserved for Russian mobsters and Hydra agents.  “Barton.  _Make him stop._ ”

Coulson said, without looking up from his laptop, “Mr Stark, babies come in their own time – it will be a few hours.  Or maybe more.  It isn’t like plugging a battery into a robot.”  Tony settled back a little, quailed.

Just then, Banner came out of the delivery room where he’d been consulting with the midwife.  Coulson looked up, just a little too alertly, speaking just a little too fast.  “How is she doing?  What’s her dilation?  Is her blood pressure holding steady?  What about pain relief?”

“ _Bruce_ ,” Tony said in an appalled voice, “you’re up _setting_ Agent _Coul_ son _._ ”  His tone implied that people who set fire to orphanages were more forgivable. 

“Hey, she’s fine,” Bruce said, holding up his hands defensively.  “It’ll be a while yet, though.  So if you can all just… think happy thoughts, that would be great…?”

“Do I _look_ like I’m not thinking happy thoughts to you?” Tony said, with sweat on his brow.  “And you!”  He turned on the erstwhile secondary parent.  “Why aren’t you pacing?!  That’s your firstborn child in there.  About to be in there.  _Why aren’t you worried about Darcy?_ ”

Sitwell’s phone beeped and he checked the messages.  “She’s had a routine pregnancy and all her stats are normal.  She’s fine, Mr Stark.”

“You’re not even in the delivery room.  That’s cold, man, _cold._ ”

“I asked if she wanted me in there,” Sitwell said, peering at his phone again, “she said she wanted something more important.”

“Like what?”

Sitwell looked up, a beaming smile on his face.  “Mrs Lewis!  How are you?  How was your flight?  Here, let me take you over to the cafeteria and get you some coffee.  Have I ever introduced you to Tony Stark?  Yes, he’s coming, too…”

***

Darcy had had a good long time to think about who she wanted holding her hand while she was in labour.  Her besty, Jane, had obviously held a place in her consideration but… yeah, besty Jane wasn’t the _best_ at calm and considered in a crisis.  Plus, Darcy was seriously worried about breaking the bones in her hand during a contraction or something.  Agent Romanov she’d thought about – the lady sure knew about pain management, yeah?  But no, it just didn’t seem right.  Dr Banner would have made a good doula, but she’d already recruited him onto Team Midwife, so he was out.  And there was Agent Coulson who, it had recently turned out, had daughters from a former secret civilian life – but that just didn’t seem right, either.  It might put a strain on their Mentor/Minion relationship.  Jasper Sitwell, the actual father of her child had offered… but she had a far graver task for that one.  Which left…

“Come on, Darcy, you’re doing _really well._ ”

Which left the friend with superheated hands, a knack for hugs and backrubs, and a proven ability to be unfazed by Women’s Business.  Who doesn’t want to hug Captain America?  _Oh yeah_.

Darcy squeezed Steve’s huge hand more tightly and made a noise from deep inside herself as her abdomen contorted.  Bruce looked up from where he sat at her feet and smiled.  “It won’t be long now, Darcy,” he said.  And then she pushed and pushed again, and Steve Rogers wrapped his arms around her shoulders and whispered comforting things while Bruce and Mary Chan, her other midwife, did unspeakable things to her nether regions and a small slimy baby was introduced into the world.  Nine months (ish), and it was all over.  Or only just beginning.  Oh, God.

Darcy gingerly took custody of her daughter and traced the curve of the baby’s cheek.  She was going to have to think up a name for the Offspring real soon now.  Arggh.  Right now her daughter didn’t look like anything except a grommet.  She looked up and blinked in surprise.  “Steve.  You’re _smiling_.  Captain America doesn’t smile.”

“I smile sometimes,” he said in protest, and reached out a careful hand to cup the baby’s head.

“No, but you see – good old Cap does that halfway smirky thing, or maybe a big cheesy Buy War Bonds grin.  He doesn’t _smile_.  Steve… you’re _smiling._ I didn’t even realise you had _teeth_.”

***

In the hospital cafeteria, Tony paced.  With intent.

At the table, Jane Foster and Mrs Lewis were immersed in Girl Talk.  He scooped up some more coffee and went over to peer at the pictures they were chatting over.

“Of course, with my _first_ , I was just up on the table thinking ‘y’know, I really want to let one rip’ and then they were all like ‘Congratulations, Mrs Lewis, you have a girl’, that was my older daughter Lindsay, dear – but our Darcy, she always was a big girl, so they went in through the side door as it were – here, I’ll show you...”

Tony recoiled.  Love women as he did, there were some parts he really didn’t want to see – an opened out abdomen full of black stitches and intestines was right up there.

“And then, of course, after my _third_ , that’s Gordon, the doctor just went on ahead and did a hysterectomy – here I’ve got the pictures of that, too…”

Jane nodded with interest and shared some comments about her mother’s and aunts’ surgical misadventures.  Tony looked with pleading eyes at Sitwell, who was just getting off a phone call.  “ _Make them stop_ ,” he begged.  “Actually, don’t,” he added.  “You keep them company, and I’ll go check on Darcy, it’s been far too long-”

Sitwell went on smoothly: “I have to say, Mrs Lewis, I really admire your scarf.  Such a beautiful colour.  Wherever did you get it?”

The middle aged woman preened.  “Why, Tony Stark gave it to me of course.  He said,” and she fumbled for a letter in her bag, “that it was a thank you for the wonderful service my Darcy had given him at the bank.  Oh, Mr Stark, I showed it to all my friends…” 

Stark looked over Mrs Lewis’ head at Agent Sitwell and mouthed: “I hate you.”

Sitwell’s phone went off again, and he brightened.  “Mrs Lewis, I think it’s time to see your Darcy now,” and he offered his arm to the woman.

***

The official relatives having had their five minutes of alone time, Tony (fucking) Stark burst through the delivery room door, dragging a Teddy Bear Of Unusual Size.  Darcy sighed inwardly, it was too much to expect that Sitwell would be able to keep the billionaire, and the billionaire’s enthusiasm, out of her face for too much longer.

“Make way!  Make way!” Stark announced, “I have doting to do!”

As he neared her bedside, though, the inventor slowed down.  “She has a pointy head,” Tony said dubiously.

“And she’s perfect!” Darcy said.

“Huh.  Well, just.  Huh.”  He reached out a greedy hand, then snatched it away as if burned.  “Can I… can I hold her?  Just for a moment – I wouldn’t want to tire the kid out or anything…”

Darcy opened the envelope attached to the Teddy Bear Of Unusual Size.  The envelope, too, was of an unusual size for a gift card – more the kind that legal documents went in.  She pulled the contents out, read them for a couple of minutes.  “ _Tony fucking Stark!_ ” she yelled.

“I can’t hear you!” he waved her off as he left the room.

“You can’t give my kid a trust fund!”

“La lala.  Is someone playing the radio?  It’s so noisy in here.”  And he was gone.

Epilogue:

Sometime in the wee small hours of the night, Darcy blinked herself out of her happy happy drug and endorphin haze to check the crib beside her.  It was empty, and she sat up with a wince and the beginnings of panic.  In the low light of the bedside lamp, her one time one night stand was seated holding a small life on his lap, his suit rumpled and his glasses discarded.

“ _Agent Sitwell_ ,” she asked, “are you crying?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny, Agent Lewis,” Sitwell said, with the faintest hint of a dimple on his cheek.  He leant over and kissed her on the forehead.  “Go back to sleep, Darcy, I’ve got you covered.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I asked if she wanted me in there,” Sitwell said, peering at his phone again, “she said she wanted something more important.” – anyone can hold your hand in the delivery room. Running interference with your mother? That takes love.
> 
> “Captain America doesn’t smile.” – so I don’t know if anyone else had this reaction to the Captain America movie, but to me it felt like Wee!Steve was this really animated expressive guy, and then as soon as he turns into Big!Steve he gets all po faced and serious for most of the rest of the movie (and for all of The Avengers). I’m choosing to treat this as a point of characterisation – Steve getting all duty focused because he has to, and not being sure how to stop when the fighting’s over. Plus, Chris Evans the actor has a really great smile. We should see more of it.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's all she wrote. Thanks to everyone who's been reading, commenting and kudosing - it's been great to hear from you.
> 
> Gotta say, I had a lot of fun writing something so unrelentingly silly/fluffy. (It must be time for more angst!)


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